Irish Pictures

Predný obal
Religious Tract Society, 1888 - 223 strán (strany)
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Strana 98 - Father's face, Eternal King of Glorie, Lord of Might, Meeke Lambe of God, before all worlds behight, How can we Thee requite for all this good? Or what can prize that Thy most precious blood...
Strana 31 - Only a woman's hair : only love, only fidelity, only purity, innocence, beauty ; only the tenderest heart in the world stricken and wounded, and passed away now out of reach of pangs of hope deferred, love insulted, and pitiless desertion : — only that lock of hair left ; and memory and remorse, for the guilty, lonely wretch, shuddering over the grave of his victim.
Strana 66 - I am persuaded that this is a righteous judgment of God upon these barbarous wretches, who have imbrued their hands in so much innocent blood ; and that it will tend to prevent the effusion of blood for the future. Which are the satisfactory grounds to such actions, -which otherwise cannot but work remorse and regret.
Strana 61 - Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill, Oh ! no, — it was something more exquisite still. 'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear ; And who felt how the best charms of Nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
Strana 138 - It is made up of incongruous parts. The village in its happy days is a true English village. The village in its decay is an Irish village. The felicity and the misery which Goldsmith has brought close together belong to two different countries and to two different stages in the progress of society. He had assuredly never seen in his native island such a rural paradise, such a seat of plenty, content and tranquillity, as his Auburn.
Strana 61 - THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;* Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Strana 61 - Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, And who felt how the best charms of nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love. Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest In thy bosom of shade with the friends I love best, Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace ! ST SENANUS AND THE LADY.
Strana 73 - Ros-na-righ, with his face to the east. He afterwards died, and his servants of trust held a council, and came to the resolution of burying him at Brugh, the place where the kings of Tara, his predecessors, were buried. The body of the king was afterwards thrice raised to be carried to Brugh, but the Boyne swelled up thrice, so...
Strana 124 - Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?
Strana 56 - Ah ! your saints have cruel hearts ! Sternly from his bed he starts, And with rude, repulsive shock, Hurls her from the beetling rock.

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